Chapter 2
"Cyrus?"
Leave me alone. Fuck off, whoever you are.
"Cyrus, it's Marshal Larkin. I know you're not feeling very well but I can't wait any longer, I need to discuss a few things with you. Don't you want to know why you're not in prison?"
Because it would look bad on your resume if I died, that's why, Cyrus thought.
"You owe it to Lillian over here to behave yourself and answer my questions, how about that? She's been working her butt off to care for you. And she has done a marvelous job too, you're on the mend"
So her name was Lillian than. Good to know, thanks for the information, now fuck off.
"You're starting to get on my nerves here, Cyrus"
Starting? Look what I did to your goddamn plane. Eventhough it wasn't my idea to crash it into Las Vegas. He listened as Larkin left his bedside with angry strides and smiled to himself when he heard the marshal sigh in annoyance.
"He refuses to talk to me, Lillian. Will you be so kind as to ask him these questions? Maybe he answers them if you ask. He's known to be rather polite to women" Larkin said, handing Lillian a document. She nodded and stuffed it in her pocket. "I'll try when he feels a little better" she said, smiling lightly at the marshal. "I'll come back tomorrow to see how you're doing.. and how he's doing of course, obviously" Larkin said and walked back into the livingroom to see Cyrus sitting up slowly in his bed, their eyes met for a second, causing Cyrus to roll his eyes.
"I'm glad to see you up. You've been sleeping an awful lot, I was starting to worry" the marshal said, walking up to the bed. "Yeah, people tend to sleep a lot when they get thrown around like a ragdoll, Vince" Cyrus sneered. "You'll be alright, or so I've heard. Listen, you know just as well as I that this isn't permanent. Once you're healed, you're going back to prison. Just so you know, I've got guards all around the building, there is no way you can escape. I know you won't harm miss Porter over here, and I trust you not to change your mind about that. Do I have your word, Cyrus?" Larkin asked, sounding as dead serious as he possibly could. "why, marshal. Do I detect concern in your voice over little miss Lillian over here? Is she in any way related to you perhaps?" the marshal rolled his eyes. "If you must know, yes. She's my sister's daughter. She volunteered for this and she's been watching over you ever since we brought you in here, and she's been doing it with more love and tenderness than you ever deserved, alright Cyrus?"
The criminal simply nodded in understanding, he never disliked the marshal, and he could easily promise to never hurt his niece. "How did you get the blue prints of the plane?" straight to the point the marshal was. Cyrus thought for a moment, how did he get those blue prints again? He flinched when he hurt his head by making his brain go into overdrive. "I bought them from another convict that worked in the library" he said, rubbing his temples. "and how did he get his hands on those blue prints?" Larkin asked, but Cyrus shook his head. "I have no idea. I didn't know he had them till someone told me about it. I guess he wasn't all that good in keeping secrets"
"who is this contact in South America that you apparently worked for?"
"Cindino. A convict from another prison."
"You two were friends?"
"Until it turned out he set me up. I set him on fire"
"who shot the DEA?"
"I did when he threatened to kill me. He did it himself, you know. I didn't know who he was and I didn't give a shit either. I thought he was another convict. Another one that couldn't keep his secrets to himself"
Lillian interrupted holding a glass of water. "I think that's enough for today. He shouldn't be up for this long" she handed Cyrus the glass and looked up at the marshal, who nodded in defeat. "No, marshal. It's way past my bed time. I think I missed sesame street because of this interview" the criminal sneered. Larkin gave him an unamused glare while pulling on his coat. "you behave yourself" he said and left the apartment. The criminal lay back down slowly, the ordeal had exhausted him. He had begun to doze off when he felt something cool against his forehead, Lillian was dabbing his brow with another compress, trying to help him fight his fever. He gazed at her for a while with his usual unreadable expression.
"well, well miss Lillian Porter. Taking care of dangerous convicts like you would take care of a sick puppy, aren't we? Well I suppose being the marshal's niece, if anything should happen to you, you know how to get your revenge" Cyrus said, closing his eyes once more, the light hurting his tired eyes. "I suppose I could should I wish for it. Get some rest now" she answered. He sighed, he wanted to, but he couldn't right now. "Help me out of this bed" he grumbled and sat up once again. "You shouldn't be up, Cyrus, your leg.." "Hurts like a motherfucker, little bitty miss Lillian dear.. but if I don't take a piss right now, I'll be doing it allover your pretty, white sheets" he shot back, rendering her silent.
He gingerly put some of his weight down on his wounded lower leg and hissed in pain, grabbing a chair to hold himself up. She reached out to support him, but changed her mind, she figured he might not want to feel weak. He limped away and locked the bathroom door behind him, giving her time to change the sheets on his bed.
It was in the bathroom that he realized he was wearing nothing but his underwear, and that wasn't even underwear he recognized. So that's why he was so cold, was he that much out of it? Get your shit together, Cyrus. How are you ever going to get yourself out of this joint if you're not even aware of what you're wearing? He left the bathroom and slumped down on her couch while the young girl was still cleaning up his bed. "You do this more often?" he asked. She looked up at him. "what, cleaning the bed?" she said. "Volunteering to take care of a murdering, escaped convict"
"Oh, no this is my first time actually. Someone had to do it. Your bed is ready" he simply stared at her, trying to make sense of what she told him. "I suppose a hospital could have done this too, with less chance of me escaping, hijacking another plane and killing more people. Not to mention the risk I could be to your safety. I just wonder what made you decide to volunteer for this" he said. She shrugged, cleaning up his side table. "And drag your bed into your living room" he continued, raising his eyebrows in question. "I needed room for all this equipment" she said, pointing at the heart monitor and oxygen tanks. "why, though? Aren't you scared? At all?" he asked, calmly. "Should I be, Cyrus?" he chuckled bitterly. What was left of him probably didn't look all that threatening, he could hardly walk to the bathroom by himself. "Guess not" he mumbled.
After a moment of silence she walked over to the couch and sat down beside him, holding out her hand for him to shake. "Perhaps it's time for a proper introduction. Hello, I'm Lillian Porter" he hesitated for a moment but then took her hand in greeting. "Cyrus Grissom" he said. "I know this all might seem strange to you, but I couldn't let them take you with them. You would never heal if they brought you back to prison right away. Don't you know you're malnourished? We ran a blood test on you, your vitamin levels are the worst I've ever seen" he waited till she was done with her little rant. No, he didn't know he was malnourished, then again he never really gave a rat's ass about his health. He had been in prison for 25 years, no exactly good for one's health either.
"Vince called me when they found you and asked me to do this" she finally confessed, making him chuckle softly. Marshal goody two shoes to the rescue. "That must have been an interesting phone call" he replied, making her laugh. "they had placed you on a blue police coat and were busy hooking you up to fluids. Someone was holding a shirt to the wound on your head, you were bleeding out in front of us. I had to decide right there" she continued, he was silent. "Vince told me what had happened and who you were and what kind of interactions you had with him. He told me you'd never harm me. You never hurt any women"
Well, he put a gun to the head of that female guard on the plane. But other than that, he couldn't remember if he ever really harmed a woman.
"You were so tired, Cyrus" I still am, he thought. I'd be in that bed snoring up a storm right now if it was up to me. "How long have I been here?" he asked simply. "three days. You slept through the whole one and a half day. I was worried you might have slumped into a coma, but the doctor said you were simply sleeping. You reminded me of my cat. I got her out of the shelter, she slept for three days straight when I took her home. Sleep off the prison bars, they called it" she said, smiling kindly at him. "Lucky cat" he mumbled, letting his eyes roam through the livingroom. She had a nice apartment. Spacious and well furnished, a cozy home.
"so you're going to hand my back over to your beloved uncle once I'm healed?" he asked. She nodded after a moment. "when you're strong enough to go back to prison" he corner of his mouth twitched in a small smile "well I guess I'm going to have to find ways to convince you I'll be a sick puppy for the next three months then, hm?" he said, looking at her. "You could try" she answered. He nodded and got up from the couch, needing to lay down again, he limped back to his bed and lay down. "Nurse, oh nurse.. I think it's time to tuck me in now. Will you read me a story, nurse?" he said, causing her to roll her eyes. "You're a big boy, Cyrus. I think you can manage that on your own" he faked a look of hurt and disappointment. "Now, miss Porter, I liked you much better when you still thought I was dying. Where did all the coddling go? I kinda liked it. Should I cough a little, would that help?" he was mocking her, and she didn't like it, he could feel her withdraw more and more.
"Get some sleep, Cyrus" she said and left the room, closing the door to her office so he was left alone with his growing headache. Now he felt bad for offending her. Cyrus, you dick. Show some gratitude or atleast be polite to a woman that is risking her life and reputation to get you back on your feet. That girl has taken better care of you in three days than your mother did in 14 years. He sighed in frustration with himself. Being nice was hard, really hard. "Hey!" he yelled, deciding to apologize. "Come back!" when she didn't respond he grumbled. "I fell out of bed! I'm bleeding!" he yelled, lying to get her out of that office room. She appeared in the doorway, annoyed. "stop being the boy that cries wolf too many times. If something does happen to you someday, I won't come because I'll think you're putting on a show again. What is it?" she said. He bit his lip for a moment. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have mocked you. Stay here, I like your company" he tried to sound as sincere as possible, but she didn't move out of the doorway, she simply crossed her arms in reply, gazing at him.
"Oh come on, sweetheart. Don't be like that now. What do I need to do? Buy you roses?" he sneered, getting impatient. She chuckled and shook her head, walking up to his bedside. "I don't want to give Vince a reason to kill you. You're better off not giving me anything, especially not roses" she said, straightening the covers on his bed. "Ah no, we don't want dear uncle to think our relationship goes beyond that of a nurse and her patient, do we? Tell me though, are you a nurse?" he asked, making himself comfortable in the bed, gazing up at her. "I'm a veterinarian" she answered. He laughed. "of course you are. And you were just the person to take care of this animal. This explains the whole sick puppy thing, although I do believe I'm more talkative than most of your patients"
"You're not an animal, Cyrus. I should know. Maybe you started feeling like one after being in prison for so long" she said, her smile disappearing. She adored her freedom, she couldn't imagine giving it up and living in prison for 25 years. "I have a rather convincing bark, though. I fooled many guards with my dog barking skills. Another thing I could train to perfection with this excessive amount of time they give when they lock you up" she stared at him for a moment but then bursted out laughing. "You barked at prison guards?" she asked. He chuckled and shrugged, he couldn't deny he liked her more when she was laughing about him instead of being upset with him. "Only if they deserved a concert" he replied and sighed, his headache was ruining his conversation with the first friendly person he met in a long, long time.
"Are you alright?" her voice snapped him out of his frustration and he nodded, giving her a slight assuring smile. "I don't think any nurse or doctor could have done a better job fixing up this wild dog though, miss Porter, for what it matters coming from one" he said. She was rendered silent for a couple of minutes. "Thank you, Cyrus. You can call me Lillian if you want" she answered. He rolled onto his side, his back to her, this woman was reopening wounds and awakening feelings he thought he silenced years ago. Things you lose when you serve a long time behind bars. The first five years are the toughest, it's when you have to learn to accept you'll never get out, even if you do manage to escape, they'll find you someday and bring you back. He never wanted to go back to feeling those realizations again, so he turned his back to her kind face and closed his eyes. "Lillian then, whatever you wish" he mumbled. he felt her adjust the covers of the bed and pull them over his shoulders, then she walked away, leaving him to get some rest. The last thing he heard before drifting off to sleep, was the persistent meow of a hungry cat.